Choice In The Matter
by finaldecember
Summary: In a deadly race against time, the Doctor must decide if he's ready to share his life with a new companion.


The Doctor frowned at the psychic paper, perched on the edge of one part of the Tardis' console with a message still written out on it in the cramped, hasty lettering he knew belonged to Captain Jack Harkness. What the other man was a captain of exactly, he'd never been able to find out and at the moment, he didn't really care to know. This wasn't the first time Jack had asked him to do something without thinking about the effect it would have on the rest of the world and it probably wouldn't be the last.

_He's at Turnmill Nuclear Power Station, near Cardiff. Please do something. You know I can't afford to lose someone as brilliant as Owen._

He'd only seen Owen once before, but from that short 'meeting', the Doctor knew it would be a great loss to the Torchwood Institute if Owen died. Well, died _again_, if he wanted to be technical about it. But preventing that death didn't exactly justify him doing something just because Jack wanted him to. The man had already died once, had been running around Cardiff as a zombie until now, and after his first death, all living family members would have been notified, which meant that he was essentially a ghost. He could never go back to the Institute, shouldn't have been brought back in the first place, but he had and that meant one more timeline had been disrupted in such a way that the Doctor couldn't go back to put things right.

Even if he could go back, would it be right for him to make sure that Jack never used the Resurrection Gauntlet to bring Owen back? It wasn't as if Owen had suddenly been rendered completely useless. Then again, he'd heard that Jack had contacted UNIT to specifically ask for Martha's help not too long ago. If it came down to it, he could probably have her come back up to Cardiff and permanently take over as the medical officer. Would the other members of Jack's team agree to it, though? The fact that both Jack and Martha had traveled with him at one point could make the others feel as though they were being excluded.

"It really shouldn't be this difficult to decide someone's fate," he muttered, turning away from the console and resuming the circuit he'd been making of the control room when the message first came through. There were two choices he could make -- ignore Jack's message, condemn Owen to a death he would be forced to watch, and possibly make enemies out of a group of people he'd begun to consider as friends; respond to Jack's message, save Owen from a death he'd have been forced to watch and then what? Take Owen with him as a companion? The man was _undead_, meaning very vulnerable in dangerous situations. He'd be a liability, if anything. Unless .....

Trainers squeaking, the Doctor whipped back around and ran for the console, setting coordinates for Turnmill's control room as fast as his fingers could move. Because Jack had failed to mention the date, time, or anything else that would help the Doctor save Owen, this would have to be a blind flight. If he was off by even a few seconds, he would be putting his own life at risk and, because of the narrow window of time he had between the meltdown stopping and the control room being flooded with radiation, he only had one chance to get this right.

***

The Doctor wasn't sure just how much time he had left, but from what he had been able to see when he'd checked the little monitor he'd rigged up to the Tardis console in a previous regeneration, the man he'd come to save was still alive. Well, if one could actually count Owen's 'zombified' state as being alive. He had apparently only just finished doing something to the control panel in front of him when the Tardis landed. Now, he was just standing there with his back turned, almost as if he was debating whether or not he should turn around.

_'Probably afraid that he'll realize he's imagining things and he really is stuck in this room,'_ the Doctor thought, glancing at the outer doors for a moment, then down one of the halls leading off the main room of the Tardis. How long had it been since he'd shared this space with someone else? Months, years? He'd gotten used to the peace and quiet that traveling alone afforded him, even if it did make certain aspects of his life all the more obvious. And when it came right down to it, which was worse? Falling in love with his companion and inevitably having them abandon him when they grew tired of traveling - sometimes the latter without the former - or moving through the universe alone, knowing full well that he would never be truly happy?

He was about to fall deeper into the mood he'd gotten into with that trail of thought when a high-pitched alarm sounded somewhere in the Tardis. Glancing back at the monitor screen on the console, he saw a warning that the power plant control room had just locked down. Not only that, but he could hear Owen drumming his hands rather forcefully against the doors and screaming something - though he couldn't make out any words from where he stood. That was it, then. The choice had been made for him, hadn't it? He couldn't leave without this moment being permanently stamped on his mind.

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor ran for the doors and flung them open, nearly getting knocked over as Owen fell forward onto the entrance ramp. Not the best way to save someone's life, but it would have to do, he told himself, shutting the door again and running for the console as he pointed at Owen, who was still lying on the floor. "Don't say a word and don't move. I'll try to explain once we're out of here, but I can't promise you'll understand any of it," he said, jamming in the coordinates to get the Tardis away from Turnmill.

For once, the Doctor felt as though he was starting to spiral out of control. He'd never encountered someone quite like Owen before, whether looks or personality were being counted in that equation. From what he'd been able to tell by the thoughts that were racing through Owen's mind, the man was a wild card. It was too difficult to gauge just what his reaction would be when they arrived at their destination, or if he would even accept the help that would be offered. And after that ..... what?

The Doctor sighed and pushed the questions out of his mind, locking them away where he couldn't get to them. There was a time and a place for this kind of thinking. It could at least wait until they arrived at their destination. For now, he was sure that there would be a multitude of questions for him to answer for the man whose life he had just saved.


End file.
